Living Space vignette
by Sienna
Summary: B/A. A lewd offer, the misuse of fruit and drunkenness.


This part is unabashedly stupid. It can stand alone for now but will definitely be integrated into the whole story at some point. It's short. It's kinda silly. And did I mention stupid? 

**Living Space (vignette)**   
by Sienna 

E-MAIL: sienna_tainted@email.com   
DISCLAIMER: You know the drill.   
RATING: Not sure. PG-13?   
SYNOPSIS: Fellatio.   
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Completely AU because canon sucks these days. Everyone is human and living like regular joes. Anything I've written that could be interpreted as remotely sexual is pretty much intentional, so run with it. Where's the fun without subtext? This part is set some time after chapter 3 and can be subject to change. Also, I know it seems like my characters are always drunk, but it's not true. They're only drunk half the time. 

Previous parts can be found at - sienna.euphoriq.org   


Angel looked up as Buffy sauntered towards him, looking at him like she'd trapped her prey and a gleam in her eyes. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, suddenly feeling like the room was a little too warm. She was only clad in a tank top and red underwear, all gorgeous legs and-- no, the room was a lot too warm. 

"Whatcha doing?" she asked, her hands behind her back. 

He couldn't not look at her, gesturing towards his sketchbook (or doodlebook, as she liked to call it) lamely. "Drawing." 

"Darla around?" Buffy questioned, sinking a knee into the cushions as she stood over him, easily taking control of the situation. His gaze flicked to a smooth, bare thigh, then back to her eyes. 

"Working, I think," Angel said, attempting to keep his tone even. 

"Mm." 

"Yeah," he said, unsure of what her intentions were or where she was going with this. She didn't hesitate to let him know. 

"So you want a blow job?" Buffy asked, her voice the spill of silk and spikes, as if it were a completely normal thing for her to ask... and looking all the world like she was offering. 

Angel felt like the breath was knocked out of him and tamped down the sudden urge to grab her. Which wasn't too hard, considering he was currently paralysed with shock. He managed a bewildered, "What?" and found that his eyes were irresistibly drawn to her mouth. 

She gazed at him heatedly for a moment....before giggling. "I had to see the look on your face." 

For a moment, he was utterly confused, even more than a second before. The words 'blow job' had just slipped past those rose lips, having been introduced with 'So you want a'. Then...the mocking laughter. 

Buffy looked at him with a thoroughly amused expression on her face, still chuckling as she handed him a glass filled with liquor and topped with whipped cream. "Just playing with you," she smiled. "But I got you a Blow Job anyway." 

He took the drink from her slowly, staring at it uncomprehendingly. "You got me a....Blow Job." 

She vainly tried to suppress a grin and patted him on the chest. "Enjoy." Buffy turned to leave and disappeared back onto the balcony where he could see Spike mixing his damn drinks. 

Angel exhaled, leaning back onto the sofa as he tried to gather his scattered wits, before polishing off the shot. He watched as a clearly inebriated Buffy danced on the balcony, twirling in circles with her arms outstretched as she talked to Spike, her yellow hair flying in all directions. And swallowed. He sat, undecided, before his legs propelled him up and he pushed open the sliding doors, against his better judgment. 

"Angel!" Buffy grinned happily, tiptoeing so she could sling an arm around his neck. "Want another Blow Job?" 

Spike snorted with amusement, shaking a can of whipped cream. Buffy noticed and immediately went to him, opening her mouth expectantly. 

"You've had enough," he said. 

She shook her head petulantly. "Cream." She pointed at her mouth. "In." 

Spike acquiesced as she tilted her head back, filling her mouth with the desired confection. She pulled Angel over. Unthinkingly, he wiped some cream from the corner of her mouth with his thumb, licking it off. She didn't seem fazed and he relaxed. 

"I'll make you a Blow Job. Spike showed me, it's easy. Blow Jobs *rock*. In fact, I could do with another Blow Job now." 

Angel grimaced. "Stop saying 'blow job'." 

Buffy gave him a 'duh' look. "What, and take all the fun out of it? What's the point of that?" 

"Yeah, but you're abusing it now," Angel said, leaning back against the railing. 

"I know," Buffy said gleefully. "But you still fell for it." She bent over the railing, held her arms out like a plane and shouted into the night. "Fell for it!" 

Angel pulled her back, away from the edge. "Okay. You've had one too many Blow Jobs." 

She laughed. "That's the spirit," she said encouragingly. 

"I meant 'drinks'," he said, lamely attempting to fix his error. He saw Spike lining up three more shots. "Don't give her any more." 

"If you don't like it, go back inside," Spike replied stubbornly, just as Buffy saluted and said a drunken, "Yes, sir!" before dissolving into a giggle. 

Angel eyed her dubiously and she straightened, putting on a serious expression. "I'm sorry. I'm not drunk." 

Spike laughed. 

Buffy grinned, her eyes sparkling. "Maybe a *little* drunk," she acceded. "But it's a good drunk." 

Angel put an arm around her waist to hold her up when she swayed and stumbled against him. "How about we go back inside?" 

"I can...I can make you a drink," she insisted. "Really." 

"It's okay," he answered. "Come on. We're going in. Besides, I owe you for last time, don't I?" 

"You were really drunk. This is completely different," Buffy said, craning her head back to look at him as he practically carried her into the living room. 

Angel chuckled. "My mistake." 

She laughed. "You're silly," she said, swatting him on the arm and almost missing. Buffy looked down for a moment. "My legs don't seem to be working." 

They made it to the kitchen and he lifted her up by the waist to sit on the counter top. As he turned to get her a glass of water, she lay back on the hard surface with her arms outstretched, her hand bumping into the bowl of fruit. She found a bunch of grapes and placed them on her stomach with a snicker. 

"Wanna grope some fruit?" she asked him giddily. 

Angel set the glass down next to her and touched her cheek, making her hold his gaze for more than three seconds. 

"You're really going to regret this in the morning," he said with a wry smile. 

"Come on. Look, I'll have the banana," she said, fumbling for one. "I'll let you have the grapes. Or even the pears. Pears are sexy." She looked at him smugly. "Not as sexy as my banana, though." 

Angel pulled her back up into a sitting position and she trapped him with her legs, crossing her ankles. He tried to maintain some distance between them as she looked up at him through her lashes. 

"I'm putting you to bed," he told her. // Before I do something I regret. // 

"Bed's boring," Buffy protested. 

"Nope. You're going," he said firmly. He attempted to pull away but her legs remained locked around him. "Buffy." 

"Angel," she said, copying his stern tone. Then she yelped in surprise when he hoisted her up from the counter, putting her arms around his neck lest she fall. He carried her to her room, ungracefully bumping into a chair on the way, and tried to lay her down on the bed. She held fast. 

He glared. She grinned. 

"You're very good at making things hard for me, you know that?" Angel said, braced over her as she clung to him. 

Her grin widened. "I know." 

"Buffy," he said resignedly. // Real clever. Conveniently get on top of her, why don't you? // 

"What's the magic word?" she said teasingly. He gazed down at her, mere inches away. 

"Tell me." 

Her voice lowered provocatively and she gave him a sly smile. "You know." 

Angel pursed his lips as she looked at him expectantly. The girl had him wrapped around her little finger. "Blow job," he surrendered. 

Buffy let out a rich laugh and immediately released her arms and legs, pulling the bedcovers over herself. "You're funny. Night, Angel." 

He shook his head, kissing her forehead. "Goodnight, Buffy." She pressed something into his hand, turned over and was asleep in under a minute. 

It was a grape. 

----- 

Feedback is very much appreciated! 

P.S. 'Blow Jobs' are made up of Absolute Kurrant, Kahlua and Baileys (I think). With whipped cream. 


End file.
